Chapter 4
SOPHIE
The third theft had been from a private collector’s home in Kahala, one of Honolulu’s most exclusive neighborhoods.
Sophie knew the area well—she’d investigated cases there before, always struck by how much wealth could exist just miles from where local families struggled to afford even basic housing.
The drive took them along the coast, around and past Diamond Head’s distinctive profile. Sophie found herself checking the rearview mirror more than usual, looking for surveillance on their tail. From the back seat, Pierre was doing the same. They caught each other’s eyes in the mirror.
Pierre’s mouth twitched in his almost smile, and he leaned in to address her when Marcus took a phone call on his Bluetooth. “I missed a lot while I was away in Europe. Tell me about Connor’s departure. If you don’t mind my asking.”
Sophie kept her eyes on the passing scenery—surfers catching morning waves, joggers on the roadside path, people working in tropical yards, mynahs fluttering out of the way of their tires. Normal life continued alongside and around them.
“Connor got restless,” she said finally.
“We fought about his desire to leave for weeks, before things came to a head when there was an attempted coup of his position as Master of the Yām Kh?mk?n. He left for Thailand then, citing ‘urgent matters’ that he couldn’t or wouldn’t explain.
I told him he had to choose—his duty to the Yām Kh?mk?n, or his life with us. ”
“So he chose duty.”
Sophie nodded. “He said it was temporary, just until he could stabilize things there. But temporary became a month, then two, then six.” Sophie’s chuckle was bitter. “I’m an expert at losing men. At least this time no one died.”
“It does seem you’ve had more than your share of loss. As have I.” Pierre was quiet for a moment. Pierre had lost his wife and daughter in a horrific way. He knew about grief, about the spaces people left behind, about living with scars. “Even so, not all deaths are of the body.”
Sophie met his gaze; her eyes stung as she glanced away. “I’m sorry. Here I am complaining when you—”
“It isn’t a competition, Sophie. Your loss is real, even if Connor still walks the earth.”
Marcus swore as he ended his call. “We’ve got a problem. The Kahala collector just called 911—someone tried to break into his house again. He scared them off, but they left something behind.”
Sophie’s stomach tightened reflexively. “Let me guess—a plumeria?”
“You got it. He’s freaking out, wants us there, ASAP.”
* * *
The collector’s house was a sprawling modern mansion, all clean angles and shining glass, set on a rise with ocean views. They pulled into a large turnaround planned around a copper statuary fountain that created melodic water sounds.
A silver-haired mixed-race man in his sixties, radiating nervous energy, met them at the immense glass double doors leading into his home. “Thank God you’re here. After what happened to my collection already, I’ve been paranoid. Good thing, too, or they might have taken another piece.”
“Show us where they tried to enter,” Sophie said.
“Let’s go inside.”
The burglary victim, who introduced himself as Gary Tavares, led them through light-filled rooms filled with museum-quality art and Hawaiian artifacts. Sophie noticed Pierre gauging the items with professional interest and making quick notes in his leather notebook.
Tavares took them to a climate-controlled gallery where his most precious items were displayed. The would-be thieves had attempted to access through a skylight and had triggered a silent alarm.
“I put in cameras everywhere after last time,” Tavares said proudly. “Caught the whole thing on video.”
Security footage, revealed on Tavares’s laptop, showed two figures in black, faces obscured by masks.
They moved with professional efficiency, opening the skylight and descending on ropes—until the alarm triggered.
They then pulled back up and vanished; one had taken time to drop a plumeria through the skylight’s opening before fleeing.
“Can you enhance this section?” Sophie pointed to a moment when one figure turned toward the camera.
Tavares zoomed in, but the image remained frustratingly unclear. Still, something about the person’s build, the way they moved . . .
“That’s military training,” Pierre said with certainty. “The way these men use cover, their tactical movements—I saw plenty of it working with Interpol.”
“I agree,” Sophie said. Their precision and discipline pointed to military or paramilitary background.
“But that could describe thousands of people in Hawaii, with our large military presence,” Marcus observed.
“What were they after?” Sophie asked Tavares. “Your best guess.”
He led them to a specific display case closest to the attempted point of entry. “I imagine they were after this—the lei niho palaoa of Queen Lili?uokalani. The last queen of Hawaii’s own necklace. It’s worth . . . well, beyond price. It’s irreplaceable.”
Sophie studied the piece. Tiny braids of black human hair were themselves braided to form a thick cord, from which hung a hook-shaped pendant carved from a sperm whale tooth.
The hair rope seemed to absorb light while the tooth’s ivory gleamed in contrast, barbaric and beautiful.
The lei was magnetic to look upon, radiating the mana of its provenance.
“How did you come to own this?” Sophie asked.
Tavares threw his barrel chest out with pride. “I am related to one of the Queen’s retainers. She gave it to him in thanks for his service during the overthrow, not wanting it to fall into foreign hands. I’ve promised it to the Bishop Museum in my will so it can be enjoyed by all Kanaka Maoli.”
“That’s good to hear,” Sophie said. “It appears to be an exceptional piece.”
“As were all the items that the thieves have taken. They seem to be trying to build a collection,” Pierre said. “Something that speaks of Hawaiian royalty, perhaps?”
Sophie’s phone rang; it was her security chief, Bill. She stepped away to answer, and her body went rigid at Bill’s urgent tone.
“We’ve had a breach attempt, Sophie. Perimeter sensors triggered about ten minutes ago. We deployed quickly and scared them off.”
“How many?”
“Two. Got them on camera, but they were all in black wearing masks. And they left something odd behind.”
“Let me guess,” Sophie said. “They left a flower.”
“How did you know? It was a plumeria. Right by the wall they attempted to climb. Want us to bag it for evidence?”
“Don’t touch it. I’m on my way.” She ended the call and turned to Marcus and Pierre. “They tried for my house. Two in black. Left a flower behind.”
Marcus was already moving toward the door. “I’ll call for backup to meet us there.”
But Sophie held up a hand. “No marked units, lights or sirens. I don’t want to frighten the children. Pierre, can you stay here and finish processing the scene and the details with Mr. Tavares?”
The Frenchman nodded. “Of course. I’ll cover everything and get in touch with you later.”
Sophie headed for the door, anxiety humming along her nerves and the bile of fear sour in her mouth. The children had to be safe.
* * *
The drive to Sophie’s Kailua home after the alarm had come in stretched like an eternity, though Marcus wove through Honolulu’s midday traffic with the practiced aggression of someone who’d spent years navigating the city’s arteries.
Sophie pressed her forehead against the cool glass of the window, watching familiar landmarks blur past—the H-1 merge where traffic always bottlenecked, the Pali Highway exit that led to the mountains, the stretch where downtown’s glass towers gave way to older neighborhoods with their monkeypod trees and bougainvillea-draped walls.
The SUV’s air-conditioning hummed steadily, fighting against heat that shimmered off the asphalt.
The leather seats warmed despite the climate control.
A faint scent rose from them, a mix of the faint smell of Marcus’s cold coffee from earlier, and the lingering perfume of plumeria that seemed everywhere, even when no flowers were present.
Her children were safe. Sophie repeated it like a mantra, matching the rhythm to her deliberately steady breathing.
Armita would have taken them to the safe room the moment the alarm triggered.
The vault beneath the house could withstand anything short of a direct military assault.
Bill and his team were the best private security money could buy—all former military, all personally vetted, all understanding that their job was to protect not just clients but family.
The house itself had become a fortress over the years, especially after Connor had lived with them.
His improvements to the AI monitoring system had taken her original designs and elevated them to something that approached prescience.
Cameras that could read microexpressions, sensors that detected chemical signatures, algorithms that learned and adapted to patterns of behavior.
The system had made Security Solutions a world leader in defensive home protection technology, their waiting list stretching two years out for residential installations.
“The response time was impressive,” Marcus said, breaking into her thoughts as he swerved around a tourist rental car going twenty miles under the speed limit. “Your team knows their stuff.”
“Yes,” Sophie said. “When you have children, thirty seconds can be a lifetime.”
“Don’t I know it.” Marcus and Marcella were parents too.
The breach scenario summoned unwanted memories—another time, another threat, her mother’s elegant face twisted with determination as she’d tried to take the children for her own twisted purposes.
Pim Wat, master spy and assassin, was a grandmother who’d never held her grandchildren with love, only calculation.